


See it with the Lights Out

by QuickLikeLight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Allison Argent, Alpha!Scott McCall, Alpha!Stiles Stilinski, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bisexuality, Explicit Sexual Content, Gender Issues, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, National Sciles Day, Non-Consensual Groping, Omega!Scott McCall, Past Allison Argent/Scott McCall, See Author Notes, Sexual Harassment, play mating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:38:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2665559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even without a regular heatmate, Scott never calls him, never asks for Stiles to work him through the worst of it, and it’s not such a leap to figure out why. Betas don’t play at mating, don’t go into heat, and Omegas don’t want an Alpha who doesn’t know what he’s doing, can’t keep a handle on his instincts. So Stiles is stuck, too-large hands and too-wild urges, still uncomfortable in his skin even as the desire to mate someone builds inside him until it’s all he can think about most days. Until he feels desperate. Animal. Like the Alphas people used to warn him about, before he was one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to several people for lending me their eyes on this fic: [Hedwig](http://hedwig-dordt.tumblr.com/), [Rehfan](http://rehfan.tumblr.com/), [Bfab](http://bfab11.tumblr.com/), and [Essbee](http://get-stiles.tumblr.com/) were all vital in getting this into acceptable shape, and I appreciate them so much. 
> 
> This is a story I have struggled with a lot, but the struggle has been good. I was originally prompted to write Alpha!Stiles fic, but this sort of became much more than that to me, and it was difficult to strike the right balance of my personal characterizations, canon, fanon, A/B/O tropes, and respectful discussion of gender issues. In keeping with my own tradition re: A/B/O fic, I've said "fuck it" to the rules. In this story, humans have changing eye color according to their secondary gender (Alpha: red, Omega: gold) but have no claws, fangs, etc. There are references to play mating in this fic, but both Scott and Stiles are 17 when the story begins. Any and all text messages are sent from or received by Stiles' phone. Thus, the "Sent" is always Stiles, and the "Received" is always Scott (or his mom). 
> 
> Re: the Tags. In this fic, Scott (who was born a Human Omega) becomes an Alpha Werewolf after being bitten and his physiology changes so that he exhibits physical sex attributes of both Alpha and Omega sexes. He still identifies as an Omega, and experiences disassociation from his werewolf / Alpha-sex self. On multiple occasions Scott is mocked for not being "Omega enough," so to speak. Stiles is a late bloomer and does not have a good hold on his Alpha hormones. He feels insecure about living up to the expectations of Alphas, and this affects his social behavior. Additionally, he is bisexual and finds himself attracted to both Alphas and Omegas. 
> 
> The non-consensual groping is exactly what it sounds like, and very brief. I'll warn for it in the author's notes for the chapter it applies to. This is a heatfic, and thus there is always a minor element of dubious consent, but I've done my best to limit that here.
> 
> As always, you know yourself and your triggers. Please care for yourself.

_[Received 9/12 7:18 AM] Heat day. Could you bring my chem book by l8r?_

_[Sent 9/12 7:19 AM] Course. You ok? Need NEthing?_

_[Received 9/12 7:22 AM] mom’s home. Thx tho. Good luck on econ test today._

_[Sent 9/12 7:22 AM] … Econ test?_

_[Received 9/12 7:24 AM] STILES!_

_[Sent 9/12 7:25 AM] Kidding man! Thanks. See you after school maybe?_

 

There’s nothing worse than being a late bloomer.

Okay, that may be an exaggeration. Stiles thinks maybe Erica was a late bloomer, and it totally worked for her. She went from mousy bookworm to sensationally hot Omega ballbuster virtually overnight and everyone in the world is probably jealous of Vernon Boyd, when they aren’t pitying him because Erica is a little bit scary.

He’s not an omega though. And a late-blooming Alpha doesn’t get the overnight sex appeal. Just gangly limbs and too-broad shoulders and a constant feeling of frustration. He should have gotten his knot at twelve, thirteen - fifteen at the latest - but it didn’t pop until last summer, right before his seventeenth birthday. It took so long that most of his classmates still think he’s a beta, until he loses control of his eyes at lunch, packed into the cafeteria with all those _smells_.

“Where’s McCall?” Jackson asks before scenting the air. “Oh, it’s his time of the month, isn’t it? Didn’t stay home to help a brother out, Stilinski?”

“Shut up, asshole,” Stiles grumbles, pushing his tray down with too much force. “You know we aren’t like that.”

“Ah, but you wish you were.” Jackson wiggles his eyebrows in a mocking tease before adding, “Not sure why, since he turned. Hell, I don’t even know if he can -”

Stiles is up before he realizes what he’s doing, halfway across Isaac, Danny, and the table and reaching for Jackson’s throat.

“Stilinski, back it off,” Boyd says, all smooth authority as he grips Stiles around the waist and pulls him back down into his chair. Stiles doesn’t even realize what happened until it’s over, until Jackson is smirking at him, casually carding his fingers through Danny’s hair, eyes his own natural blue. Danny and Isaac watch Stiles like maybe they’re scared Stiles will bite him.

Stiles may be scared of that too.

Even without a regular heatmate, Scott never calls him, never asks for Stiles to work him through the worst of it, and it’s not such a leap to figure out why. Betas don’t play at mating, don’t go into heat, and Omegas don’t want an Alpha who doesn’t know what he’s doing, can’t keep a handle on his instincts. So Stiles is stuck, too-large hands and too-wild urges, still uncomfortable in his skin even as the desire to mate someone builds inside him until it’s all he can think about most days. Until he feels desperate. Animal. Like the Alphas people used to warn him about, before he was one.

He decides not to eat in the cafeteria anymore. It’s better to stay away.

 

_[Sent 9/12 3:04 PM] Grabbed your chem book and history. There’s a test next week._

_[Sent 9/12 3:15 PM] Scotty?_

_[Sent 9/12 3:18 PM] You there bro?_

_[Received 9/12 3:20 PM] Scott’s not going to be able to come to the phone, Stiles. You can leave his books on the porch. I’ll grab them later._

_[Sent 9/12 3:21 PM] Is he okay? You guys need anything?_

_[Received 9/12 3:24 PM] I called Allison but I don’t think she’s coming. Smelling someone else will probably just upset him._

_[Sent 9/12 3:25 PM] Even me?_

_[Received 9/12 3:26 PM] Sorry Stiles._

_[Sent 9/12 3:26 PM] If he needs anything, call me ok?_

_[Received 9/12 3:27 PM] I’ll let you know._

 

Scott was happy. He had a great heat mate, an Alpha that took such good care of him that he rarely even had to tell her his heat was on, just woke up to the soothing sound of her voice, to her fingers buried in his cunt, working him slick and open through even the mildest of heats. Allison was beautiful and strong and he was maybe a little bit in love with her, even if she was just his heat mate. It didn’t matter. She could be his actual mate someday.

At least, he’d thought that. Until his eyes went red.

It had happened on accident. He’d been running through the preserve, trying to work up some stamina so maybe Coach would let him play lacrosse this year with Stiles, even though he was an Omega. Scott is tough. He can take a few hits, no problem. He’s always a bit weak after heat, though, body wrung out and extra stores burned up by all the energy mating takes, so he had decided he’d do some cross training, build himself up between heats so they wouldn’t take so much out of him. He kept his inhaler in his pocket and jogged, slowly but surely, around the walking path every day after school.

He hadn’t reckoned on running into Peter Hale in the preserve. It didn’t look like Heather Custer had either.

Scott doesn’t like to think about it. He doesn’t want to remember the fear on her face, or the rage on Peter’s when he threw himself into the fray. The bite had healed almost instantly, but Scott had been too concerned with Heather at the time to even notice it until he got them both to the hospital, noticed blood all over his torn shirt.

“It happens sometimes honey,” his mother had said, cleaning him up. “It’s not a bad thing to be a wolf. It’ll just be an extra set of instincts to control. You can do it.”

“But why am I -” he shivered, shuddered, wracked with the change, not unlike the early stages of heat. “Why do my eyes keep -?”

“It happens sometimes,” she’d said.

The knot popped three weeks later. He spent his next heat alone.

 

_[Sent 9/15 6:04 PM] How’s he doing?_

_[Received 9/15 6:05 PM] I’m fine Stiles. I’ll be at school tomorrow._

_[Sent 9/15 6:05 PM] Your mom was supposed to text me!_

_[Received 9/15 6:06 PM] I was fine the whole time. Don’t worry about me!_

_[Sent 9/15 6:07 PM] Can’t help it buddy. You want to study for that history test?_

_[Received 9/15 6:09 PM] Yeah, that’d be cool. I’ll be over in twenty?_

_[Sent 9/15 6:12 PM] I could come to you. If you’re tired, ya know._

_[Received 9/15 6:14 PM] Still smells pretty strong in here. Hate to aggravate those Alpha instincts. ;)_

_[Sent 9/15 6:20 PM] Haha, you’re right. Definitely wouldn’t be able to control myself. :P_

_[Sent 9/15 6:21 PM] Door’s unlocked._

 

Stiles glimpses Scott in the morning, but can’t get to him and still get to class on time. It’s fine; he doesn’t need to be close to Scott today anyway. Not when he sort of still smells like that.

Studying the night before had been a familiar sort of hell, one Stiles was getting almost comfortable with. Scott had been spread out on his bed, still smelling faintly of heat, turning through pages of his history book like it was nothing. Like he isn’t the recurring star of all Stiles’ scent-dreams, the ones that make him wake up achy and hot, hand strangling his knot through his boxers.

It isn’t as if Stiles ever meant to feel that way about him. He didn’t wake up one day saying, “You know what would be really great? If I, a completely inept Alpha, fell in love with my gorgeous Omega best friend. That would just be the best.” It had happened though, somewhere along the line. He thought before it was when he presented, but the more he watches the subtle curve of Scott’s body as he slides through the hallways, the way he wraps Stiles up in warm, full-bodied hugs, the way his face lights up when Coach says he can get off the bench during practice - well, Stiles thinks maybe this isn’t an Alpha drawn to an Omega thing. This is just him being drawn to Scott.

That doesn’t exactly make it easier for him, though, especially when he can still sort of smell the lingering chemical trail of heat wafting after his best friend. He won’t be able to escape it this afternoon, when they’re tucked in tight to the same lab table, or sitting next to one another in history and economics, but he can save himself a little frustration now if he stays back, keeps his distance, lets Allison and Boyd herd Scott to lunch. He heads to English with his backpack high on his shoulders, and doesn’t let himself listen to see if Scott’s looking for him.

 

_[Received 9/16 11:44 AM] Ugh. Getting over heat sucks so much man. I’m starving and nauseous at the same time. How does that even happen? O yea, did we have hw in Eng?_

 

“How you doing, Scott?” Allison asks, bumping his shoulder with her own, friendly.

“I’m fine,” he says automatically. He is. He’s fine. The heat was - well, it was his third since the bite, and they haven’t exactly gotten easier, but it’s over now. He’s okay now.

“You know I want to be here for you,” she says, voice tight with uncertainty. “I want to -”

“It’s okay,” he nods. The smile comes easily. He loves Allison, still does, and if she can’t mate him this way that’s - well, it sucks, but it’s okay. Her friendship isn’t second best. He loves that too. “Just knowing you’re here helps.”

“Come on,” she smiles, reaching out to ruffle his hair but stopping just before she touches his head. It’s like that now, all these little, aborted comfort-movements that end in uncertain slaps on the back, fist bumps and high fives. “Let’s get to the caf. I’m starving, and I know you are. Bet you could eat half a cow today, huh?”

He’s still an Omega. He just… doesn’t really get treated like one anymore. It hurts in ways he wishes it didn’t, makes him feel weak to hurt like that. That doesn’t change the way it feels, though.

Stiles isn’t at lunch. Scott looks for him, eyebrows high, until Danny sighs and says, “He whipped his eyes out at the lunch table yesterday, while you were out. Tried to growl-down Jackson.”

“What? Why?”

The whole table looks uncomfortable for a few seconds before Isaac supplies, “Alpha posturing, mostly. It wasn’t a big deal, really. He’s probably just embarrassed today.”

Scott crumples a little. It’s been… hard, for Stiles. Probably harder than it’s been for him. Even though his wolf’s an Alpha, he’s got a pretty good hold on the whole hormones thing. They’d thought maybe Stiles was a Beta, and he’d been fine with that. He could have settled with anybody then, really, but probably a Beta girl who he could have a family with, someone who’d love him because of all his awkwardness and sarcasm. He’d have been a great Beta.

As an Alpha he’s… well. He’s Scott’s best friend. Scott tries hard not to think about it any more than that.

“I better go find him,” Scott says, picking up his little brown-bagged lunch automatically. He’ll eat it on the way out to the parking lot. He’s sure Stiles is there, in the Jeep, probably eating alone - unless he forgot his lunch. Did he forget his lunch? They don’t have morning classes together, and Scott didn’t see him this morning, so maybe he needs a brown bag too, and Scott can just go grab him one -

“Scott. Sit down. Eat your lunch.” Allison’s voice still makes his knees buckle, still makes him want to turn over and present. He sits automatically, eyes wide as she blinks back the red in her own. They’re not - but it’s habit, to be like this with her. To feel the warm comfort of following her orders, even if it makes the wolf in his veins growl a little. “He can take care of himself. He’s an Alpha. He doesn’t need you to coddle him. If we all treated him more like an Alpha, maybe he’d have an easier time acting like one.”

His eyes narrow as he parses that. “If he was a Beta and he didn’t show up to lunch, would you stop me? If my _best friend_ was an Omega and eating in his car alone, would you tell me not to go to him then?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, face hard. “He’s not. So you shouldn’t. Alphas don’t do that. He won’t appreciate you being in his territory while he’s struggling.”

“Maybe you’ve forgotten already,” Scott says, letting the wolf take hold of his mouth and his hands and his legs. He stands, grabs his lunch bag and looks over her head. “My _wolf_ may be an Alpha, but _I’m_ not. Stiles isn’t eating alone.”

 

_[Sent 9/16 3:28 PM] Thanks for eating with me today. You didn’t have to._

_[Received 9/16 3:31 PM] Course I did. Eating alone is sad._

_[Sent 9/16 3:32 PM] … You know, for an Omega, you’re not very comforting._

_[Received 9/16 3:33 PM] Yeah, well, you know, I’m only like half now._

_[Sent 9/16 3:33 PM] That’s not true._

_[Sent 9/16 3:34 PM] And whoever told you that is a liar._

_[Sent 9/16 3:34 PM] Who was it?_

_[Sent 9/16 3:35 PM] Was it Jackson? Because he is such a knothead, man. I will punch him. For you. And not for me. At all._

_[Received 9/16 3:35 PM] Nobody said it. Nobody really has to, you know?_

_[Received 9/16 3:36 PM] Don’t punch anyone. I’d hate to have to defend your honor. :P_

_[Sent 9/16 3:37 PM] Hey! I could hold my own in a fight._

_[Sent 9/16 3:38 PM] Well. I could bandage up my own injuries after a fight. With your mom’s help._

_[Received 9/16 3:40 PM] I’m still so hungry man. My stomach’s gonna eat itself. Want to go get milkshakes?_

_[Sent 9/16 3:41 PM] Pick you up in five. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, all messages are sent from or received by Stiles' phone. The passage of time is indicated in text message dates. The texts do not always correspond with the preceding scene. 
> 
> Chapter warning for a hint of that Explicit rating, fluffy disgustingness, and boys being freaking idiots.

Stiles doesn’t _go_ into rut so much as he’s just always in it. Always wants to rub up against something, someone, bury himself in a warm, wet body and _live_ there. He spends most waking hours thinking about it, about what it would feel like to be inside someone, to have his skin pressed against theirs as they writhed and shuddered underneath him, on top of him. His shower fantasies have a wide range. Sometimes it’s the traditional mating run, chasing some faceless Omega through the preserve until he catches and mounts them, ties them to him and bites them, sealing a bond that will last as long as they do.

Sometimes it’s different though. Sometimes he thinks about Erica pushing him down and riding his knot, only letting him come because that’s what she wants, what she needs. He thinks about being between Isaac and Danny. He feels their hands all over him while Isaac guides him toward Danny’s cunt, shows him what to do with his mouth, his hips. He thinks about Lydia, and how her Alpha knot might feel around his, the strength in her grip and hold. It makes his stomach hurt a little, how much he wants to be touched, to be held down and used, to hold down and give.

He doesn’t let himself think about Scott while he’s awake, and he tries not to think about the dreams while he pulls himself off in the safety of his bed. That’s mostly useless, but he tries.

His dad remembers what it was like to be a young Alpha, but he doesn’t know this feeling, the frustration of just constantly needing someone to touch and never getting it. He buys Stiles a mating dummy, fleshlights, lube spiked with Omega pheromones to try and simulate the experience, to ease the tension in his shoulders and down his spine. It doesn’t work. He knots the thing over and over, but it’s not - it’s not alive. It doesn’t throb with a rabbit-fast heartbeat he can soothe and slow. It doesn’t keen and whimper when he buries his tongue in it, slurping the slick out. It doesn’t arch back, or beg, or order him around in that bossy way he bets some Omegas have, deep in heat and desperate for the knot.

It doesn’t tell him what to do with all the frustration in his gut, so he can’t get rid of it. Just pops a knot over and over in the false slick of the toy, sobbing as his teeth gnash in cotton.

 

_[Received 10/03 9:18 AM] You up?_

_[Received 10/03 9:50 AM] Guess not._

_[Received 10/03 10:22 AM] Stiles??_

_[Received 10/03 10:48 AM] Yo, dude, come on._

_[Received 10/03 11:36 AM] Are you really still asleep?_

_[Sent 10/03 12:18 PM] DUDE. I AM UP. WHAT DO YOU WANT?_

_[Received 10/03 12:24 PM] Nothing much. Just bored._

_[Sent 10/03 12:25 PM] …. I swear, Scott._

_[Received 10/03 12:26 PM] Kidding! I thought you might want to go see that ninja movie this afternoon…?_

_[Sent 10/03 12:34 PM] Dude, we already saw it, a week and a half ago. It was terrible. You fell asleep halfway through and drooled on me._

_[Received 10/03 12:42 PM] I know. Sorry about that._

_[Received 10/03 12:43 PM] But Isaac said nobody really shows up to the one o’clock show. We could MST3K it?_

_[Sent 10/03 12:44 PM] Done. Meet you at the theater in ten._

_[Received 10/03 12:50 PM] YOU BETTER HAVE SHOWERED DUDE_

 

“Ugh, mom, I told you I was -”

“Not your mom,” Stiles interrupts, and Scott flips over in his bed to grimace in his best friend’s direction.

“How’d you even get in here man?” His head is swimming and his stomach’s cramping and everything feels _off_. Not off enough for it to be his heat coming early, just… off enough to be uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable.

“Got a key made?” Stiles looks a little abashed and it makes Scott laugh, despite the roiling in his guts. The huff of breath hurts a little, and his laugh peters off with a whine. “What’s wrong dude? Are you okay? You’re not in heat, um...right?”

“No,” Scott shakes his head and immediately regrets it. “Still have a few weeks left before I go into another one. This is just breakthrough.”

Stiles nods for a minute. Then he stops, shakes his head, and quirks his eyebrows. “Dude. I don’t know what that means. At all.”

“Breakthrough,” Scott repeats. Stiles looks...completely blank. _God_. “You have to start paying attention in Dynamic Health, man.”

“Hey! I thought I was a - I mean, I didn’t think it was going to, you know, matter!” Stiles protests, and it makes Scott feel a bit guilty even though he knows it’s not his fault.

“It’s okay,” he amends. “It’s, ah, ovulation time. Well, preparing for ovulation time, that is. I can’t actually, until I’m mated? But my body practices for it. Sometimes I get breakthrough sickness.”

“And, um… what do you do for that?” Stiles looks intensely uncomfortable, like he’s caught on the edge of movement that never comes, leaving him in this still place that vibrates a bit. It hurts Scott’s eyes.

“Take a lot of showers. Try to rest. Beg for death. You know.”

Stiles has moved before he even recognizes it, so used to his best friend in his space. Not in his bed though. That’s… well. New.

“It hurts?” Stiles asks, hand hovering over Scott’s bare shoulder as the bed dips with his weight. He sits just at the edge of it, like he knows this is a space he’s maybe not supposed to be in. Scott rolls over to give him more room anyway.

“Yeah. Hurts some. It’s not too bad, though,” he lies. It’s been worse since the change, and werewolf healing does nothing for the pain. He dreads it every time. Stiles’ hand sinks down, touches his skin and rubs in small, soothing circles. Scott arches up into the touch unconsciously, the warm pressure of Alpha skin against his own triggering his responses. “You might… not want to do that,” he breathes, even as he pushes up tighter against Stiles’ hand.

“Does it help?” Stiles’ voice is rougher, but Scott can barely focus on it. The waves of comfort radiating from Stiles’ touch feel so good when his body hurts this much. “If you want, I could…” Stiles pulls his hand away and wiggles his fingers. “If you turn over? I could, um, rub your back?”

“I’m not sure you should,” Scott sighs, sinking back into his skin.

“Oh.” Stiles looks confused, and then hurt, even though he tries to smile through it. “Sure, man. Sorry. You know how useless I am at this. I’ll just let you get some rest then, huh? Text me when you’re -”

“Wait,” Scott pulls him back down by the hand, little shockwaves of comfort running up his arm just from that little bit of skin on skin. “I didn’t mean it like that. Like you took it.”

“Seems like you were pretty straightforward,” Stiles says, but he sits back down. “It’s alright. You know I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want, too.”

“That’s sort of the problem,” Scott says, groaning as a hard shiver runs through his body. “I want it. Maybe too much.” He tries to laugh but it comes out more of a sob, until Stiles’ hands are smoothing over his skin, holding him inside of it. He turns over on autopilot, giving Stiles access to the too-cool skin of his back. Stiles’ hands are amazing, magic, as they sweep over his shoulders, down his spine. Those long fingers might actually have healing properties. Someone should do a study.

“Glad you like ‘em,” Stiles says, laughing. Well. Apparently Stiles isn’t the only one prone to speaking before he thinks. _While_ he thinks. Whatever.

Stiles sits precariously on the bed next to him, not quite balanced, until Scott grumbles, “Just straddle me already.”

The laugh is a little strained, maybe, but Stiles does as he’s asked, and then there’s just the heavy comfort of an Alpha at his back, hands on his skin, fingers kneading sore muscles. He groans and rolls up into Stiles’ hands, biting down on his pillow when his fangs start to drop. The wolf is right there, just under the surface, aching and wanting something from Stiles that isn’t - isn’t friendly back rubs.

Stiles wouldn’t want that though, not from him. No one wants that from him anymore, and Scott’s okay with it. He knows he’ll be fine even if he spends every heat for the rest of his fertile period alone, whimpering into his duvet and hoping for early menopause. He knows Stiles doesn’t really feel that way about him, but for a moment he lets himself ache for it, lets himself imagine the hot, heavy drape of Stiles over his back, of Alpha teeth buried in his neck, of large hands circling his waist.

Stiles must be distracted by the smell of Omega in the room, of Scott’s mounting arousal in the air. There’s really no other explanation for the feeling of Stiles’ mostly-hard dick against his ass.

He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. He should stay still, let Stiles have his perfect Omega fantasy, get the comfort of his hands since that’s what’s on offer, but - well. He’s not always the best decision maker, is all. He rolls his hips, dragging the cleft of his ass up against Stiles’ crotch, and Stiles falls back as if burned.

“Sorry, sorry!” they say at the same time, Scott whirling around to gentle his friend.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Scott says, petting at Stiles’ arms with grasping hands and wide eyes.

“No, no, I shouldn’t have, you know -” Stiles trails off, biting his lip. “I know you’re not- so, yeah. I should have...not.”

“Right,” Scott sighs, chewing his lip. He knew, of course, but it still doesn’t feel good to _hear_. “It’s not really fair of me to act like that, when I can’t offer you… well.” Scott shrugs. “Anything that’s not half-mutated.”

“ _Whoa_ , Scotty, no,” Stiles flails, hands coming to rest on Scott’s shoulders. “That’s not… no. Please don’t say that about yourself, okay?”

“It’s fine, it is,” he argues, but Stiles is shaking his head, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Your body is perfect. This is my problem, okay? I put you in an awkward position and didn’t control myself. That’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t mind. I trust you. You’re my -”

“Please don’t say brother,” Stiles cuts in. Scott grins.

“Not exactly that, no.” Scott lets his forehead rest in the crook of Stiles’ shoulder, comforting and safe, even if Stiles isn’t - _his_ , exactly.

Stiles runs his fingers through Scott’s hair, just once, petting him down like Allison used to. He tries not to preen. “So. Um. What now?”

“This?” Scott sinks down on his side, curling forward and offering his back to Stiles once more. The Alpha surrounds him in seconds, shirt rucked up between them so that the warm skin of Stiles’ belly presses into Scott’s back, keeping him anchored. It’s comfortable in a way Scott hasn’t been since the bite.

“You know if I could fix it, I would,” Stiles says, voice soft behind Scott’s ear. “I’d do anything.”

“It’s okay. You can just keep doing this.”

 

_[Sent 10/14 4:28 PM] Jackson’s a dick. No one thinks you’re an it._

_[Sent 10/14 4:29 PM] What a total knothead._

_[Sent 10/14 4:31 PM] Seriously no one thinks that. Boyd, Isaac, Danny, Lydia and I all know you’re the same you that you’ve always been._

_[Sent 10/14 4:32 PM] Just, you know. Upgraded some._

_[Sent 10/14 4:38 PM] Allison’s a dick too. She should have stood up for you._

_[Sent 10/14 4:40 PM] Maybe you don’t need that? Which I get. But she should have anyway._

_[Sent 10/14 4:44 PM] Did you tell her not to?_

_[Sent 10/14 5:02 PM] Scotty, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, okay?_

_[Sent 10/14 5:20 PM] Are you at home? I went by Deaton’s but he said you hadn’t come in._

_[Sent 10/14 5:28 PM] I don’t want to make you feel worse so I’m going to stop._

_[Sent 10/14 6:07 PM] I love you, Scott._

_[Received 10/14 10:50 PM] Love you Stiles._

_[Sent 10/14 10:51 PM] You know when you need to talk, I’m here._

_[Received 10/14 10:53 PM] Yeah, I know._

_[Sent 10/14 10:54 PM] Good night buddy._

_[Received 10/14 10:55 PM] You too. All of it._

 

Stiles lets himself follow Scott’s scent through the halls, watch his friend as he runs around the track, drink him up when they’re together. He knows it’s futile, that he’s never going to be the kind of Alpha Scott needs, but he can’t help it. So he watches, and he scents. He lets his skin brush against Scott’s skin, glories in the soft smile Scott gives him every time, like maybe he made his Omega feel good.

He knows he’ll never really have Scott. But he has this. He lets himself drown in it.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay babes. This is the chapter with the non-con groping. For an in-depth warning please see end notes. Take care of yourselves. <3
> 
> Many thanks to [bfab](http://bfab11.tumblr.com) for her input on this chapter. <3 <3 Love you babe.

_[Sent 10/29 11:49 PM] Had fun tonight. We should do game night more often._

_[Received 10/29 11:50 PM] Totally! That last round wiped me out though. Coach is gonna kill us in X country tomorrow._

_[Sent 10/29 11:51 PM] I think we’re scrimmaging. To prep for tryouts?_

_[Received 10/29 11:52 PM] Really??_

_[Sent 10/29 11:53 PM] Better get your game face on!_

_[Received 10/29 11:56 PM]  … That was awful._

_[Sent 10/29 11:58 PM] It’s late. I’m off my game. Hope you’re on yours tomorrow._

_[Received 10/30 12:01 AM] Go to sleep, Stiles._

_[Sent 10/30 12:02 AM] Night Scott._

_[Received 10/30 12:03 AM] Sweet dreams._

_[Sent 10/30 12:03 AM] You too._

 

Werewolf strength is pretty awesome, and his asthma’s gone. He can run fast and far, and his eyes are so much better than the human players’ that he rarely misses a shot. There aren’t many wolves on the team, because there aren’t many wolves period; only about 20% of the population can even contract lycanthropy, and of those, fewer than 1% are Alpha wolves. His mom, Doctor Deaton, even Allison… they call him special. An Alpha who didn’t steal a pack or kill another wolf, just got his red eyes through some natural inner force. They say he’s sort of a miracle.

That doesn’t really make it easier to take a shower in the locker room after the game when he’s on the cusp of heat.

“Smell pretty tasty there McCall,” Matt Daehler, the Beta that acts as Coach Finstock’s assistant, pretends to scent him. He must have heard some of the other team members talking; Betas can’t even smell full-blown heat, much less the little chemical trails left by practice heats. “Your time of the month again already?”

Scott just rolls his eyes and shoves his jersey into the bag Matt holds out. Matt grabs his hand, pulling him forward until his body crashes into the Beta’s, chest to chest.

“Must hurt, having no Alpha to help you through it. If you need a hand, I’m free tomorrow night.” Matt drops the laundry bag to get a handful of Scott’s ass instead. “I may not have a knot, but I could still take care of that hot little hole of yours, I bet.”

Scott doesn’t remember grabbing Matt by the arm, bending him back over the locker room bench and digging claws into his chest. Once the haze clears, he’s surrounded by red-eyed Alphas with their muscles tensed, uneasy and coiled like they’ll spring on him any moment. Matt’s bleeding a little, cut where Scott’s claws dug in, and crying with wide, scared eyes.

“It’s okay buddy,” Stiles says, shoving his way through the crowd of posturing assholes. “It’s alright, deep breaths. Need your inhaler? I’ve got one in my locker. Come on, Scotty. He’s not worth being upset about. Come on, let’s go hose off, k? You’re all sweaty. You’ll feel better if you just come take a shower. We’ll let Boyd handle this knotwad.”

Stiles’ babbling washes over him like fresh water, calming the wolf and soothing the anxious bubble of his stomach. His claws retract, bloodied and messy, and he sinks into the safe circle of Stiles’ arms, breathing too fast and too hard. He hasn’t needed his inhaler in months now, but Stiles is bringing one to his mouth, snagged out of a nearby locker, pumping the medicine into his lungs just so he’ll calm down.

“That’s it Scotty,” Stiles soothes, rubbing circles on his back with one hand. “That’s it. You’re alright. Go get stripped down, okay? I’ll take care of things out here and then come keep you company. It’ll just take a second okay? You go on.”

It feels so good to do what he asks. It’s not the instant reaction he gets from following Allison’s orders, but the wolf doesn’t grumble and growl when he listens to Stiles, either, like it does with her. He _wants_ to do what Stiles wants him to do, all of him does. He wants to listen to an Alpha that loves him, that wants to care for him. The wolf wants to reward the pack for standing together, for coming to his aid when threatened. He strips down, tuning out the sounds from the dressing area, and lets warm water wash away everything but the memory of Stiles’ hands on his skin.

 

“You touch him again and you won’t have to worry about getting blood out of your t-shirt,” Stiles growls, eyes red and hands clenched into fists at his sides. Matt tries to smirk but the instant Stiles starts toward him he blanches, flees the locker room on unsteady feet, sneakers slipping against the tile.

It’s just him and the rest of the team now. He looks at their faces, at the ones who’d bared their teeth but watched while that piece of shit touched an Omega without his permission, touched _Scott_ when he didn’t want it.

“He’s your friend,” Stiles growls. “He’s your friend and your teammate, and you just let that son of a bitch _handle_ him. You didn’t do anything about it.”

“He looked Alpha enough to me,” Jackson Whittemore sniggers, all loose limbed and easy. “Put the eyes away Stilinski. McCall can protect himself. He doesn’t need us looking out for him.”

“He might not,” Stiles nodded, growling. “He might not need it, but he still deserves your respect. He deserves to have his Alpha friends stick up for him, just like you do for the rest of them.”

“Yeah, well. Scott’s not exactly like the rest of them anymore, is he Stiles?” Boyd’s voice is so soft, so gentle that Stiles has to strain a bit to hear him over the uncomfortable shuffling of Alphas gathering their things, leaving the locker room. He breathes out a sigh and sags a little, blinking back the red.

“He might not _need_ anything from us, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want it.”

Boyd nods like maybe he gets that, and herds the stragglers out of the dressing area, into the empty hallways. “Maybe he does. Go take care of him, Stiles. You’re the best Alpha for the job.”

For the first time, Stiles thinks… maybe he is.

 

They get home to a dark house, empty and quiet. His mom is working, but even if she wasn’t, Scott wouldn’t want her to be here. He doesn’t want her to see him like this.

“It’s okay,” he says, shaking a little. “You can.. you can go. You can go. I’m okay.”

“You don’t seem okay,” Stiles doesn’t look at his face, kicks the ground a bit with scuffed sneakers. “You seem like you are really not okay, actually.”

“I’m not - it’s not your job,” he says, sagging against the wall next to the door. “To take care of me. I’ll be okay. I’m an Alpha now, right?”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t need to be taken care of sometimes.” Stiles’ eyes widen like he didn’t mean for that to come out of his mouth, but he doesn’t take it back, and that - well. That says something. Scott’s not sure exactly what, but it’s something.

“Stay with me?” His hand shakes some as he holds it out but Stiles takes it, twining their fingers together without hesitation.

“Long as you need.”

 

Stiles leaves when Scott tells him to go, tells him the heat’s coming on too strong. He might argue a little first, though.

They’re laying in bed, twined about one another in comfort, scenting and marking in a way they haven’t since they were young, since before Scott presented and found his play mate. Stiles hasn’t done this before with anyone but him, and it feels right to be here when the heat smell rises, washes over them both in a torrent. It feels right that this tight, hot feeling goes hand-in-hand with the smell of Scott all around him, with Scott’s smooth skin under his fingers, warm breath on his cheek.

“I can control myself,” he hears his mouth say, even though he’s not sure, not really, that he could. “I can be here if you need me to. I won’t - I won’t do anything. Just hold you, pet you a little. Nothing you don’t want.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Scott pants, sweat breaking over his skin. “I believe you. Go. I’ll see you Monday, okay? We’ll talk then. Can’t decide this now - ungh, Stiles you have to, you have to go.”

Stiles has the decency to wait until he gets home to get his dick in his hand, caress the knot that’s been building there since he laid down in Scott’s bed, buried his face in Scott’s lush, familiar omega scent. He can’t even bring himself to feel bad as he knots his fist, his toys, play mates the dummy over and over with his face buried in his t-shirt, still smelling of Scott’s warm heat-scent.

 

Scott sobs through the first two days of his heat. It balloons under his skin, warming from the inside out as he struggles against his own hand on the bed. The urge to  touch his cock is new, lighting up his bones and sizzling in his blood. Even with four fingers stuffed in his hole he can’t quite get himself off, teetering on the precipice for long, desperate minutes before it subsides and he’s left with another unsatisfied comedown.

He almost calls Allison. Instead, so hesitant, he reaches for the knot.

It’s difficult, feels wrong to his hands at first, but he gets the hang of it. He kneels on the bed, presenting his ass and clinging one-handed to the swell while the other works frantically behind him. It doesn’t take long for him to appreciate the intense pleasure of hugging the knot while he thrusts a toy in and out of his cunt, the strength of the orgasms that wash over his body at his own hands. It doesn’t feel like it used to when Allison pinned him down and pushed their joined pleasure through him. Maybe that’s better. His body changed, and it didn’t feel like his own for so long but it does now, with the scent of Stiles still on his sheets and the memory of his own power under his skin. Maybe this is better.

Allison calls as the flush is beginning to wane, sore and sharp but no longer that desperate need. She offers to come over, to hold his hand and pet his hair, ease him through the end of it.

“I can’t do - well, you know. But I want to help. I want to help you feel good, even if we can’t -.” Her voice is sad, apologetic.

“You don’t need to,” he says, voice rough and cracked but strong. So much stronger now that he knows it, feels it in his bones. “I don’t need you.”

When he cries out into his pillow, wrecked and half-sated, it’s Stiles’ name he calls.

 

Stiles waits for Scott by his locker every morning. He ignores the looks of the other Alphas as they walk by, sniffing him and rolling their eyes like they know something, anything. They don’t.

Scott comes back to school Wednesday, fresh and clean smelling, warm smile lighting him up as soon as he sees Stiles leaning against the bay of lockers.

“Took a little longer than expected. Sorry,” he says, flush high on his cheeks, and Stiles shakes his head.

“Was it okay? Was it really bad? You can tell me.” The words tumble out without his permission but that isn’t unusual, especially with Scott.

“It was okay,” Scott nods. “Not as good as it could have been, but I do alright on my own.”

Stiles’s stomach sinks even though he smiles and nods, carefully avoiding Scott’s eyes. He had hoped, maybe - well. He had hoped. “Awesome,” he says, rubbing his tongue over his teeth, hitching his backpack higher on his shoulder. He watches Scott’s neck, the unblemished skin where his scent gland will surface, eventually. Soon. His mouth waters, and he swallows it, disgusted with himself. “I’m glad it’s - uh, you know. Working out.”

He thinks maybe he hears Scott snort, but he can’t be sure over the rush of blood in his ears when Scott’s hand slides down his ribs, tucks just inside the waist of his jeans.

“I do alright on my own. I’d be better with you.” Scott’s face is hesitant, soft smile playing at his full mouth. “If you wanted that, I mean. I’m not sure - it seems like you do, but I’d understand if you -”

Stiles moves quickly, boxing Scott in against the lockers and breathing deep in the hollow of his throat.

“Please don’t be kidding,” he says, just on the desperate side of desire.

“Why would I joke about that?” Scott looks genuinely confused and it’s heart-meltingly adorable, or it would be, if Stiles wasn’t so concerned about the rapid redirection of most of his blood flow.

Stiles struggles, hips rocking a little where they press into Scott. “I’m not um, well. You know. I won’t be good at it. I might be too rough. Or just bad. I don’t know I’ve… never.”

“I know.” Scott runs the tip of his nose down the tendon in Stiles’ neck, making him ache all over with the need to get somewhere private. “I don’t need you to be careful with me. I just need you to be you. If you want me.”

“How could I not want you?” It hurts to see Scott’s face screw up, that chagrined smile forming on his mouth, and Stiles cuts him off before he can even speak. “You’re my best friend, you’re gorgeous, you smell amazing, and you have awesome werewolf strength which means when I am totally exhausted from Day Three of marathon sex, you can hold me up in the shower. How could I not want you?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Scott shakes his head and rolls his eyes, like Stiles is the one making a terrible decision here (and for once in his life he’s not, _he’s not_ , Scott’s the best decision he could make).

“The question is, why would you want _me_?”

“Boyd already told you, right?” Scott leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips, grinning and backing off before Stiles can turn it into something more, something _better_. “Best Alpha for the job. Now come on. I’ve missed four days of Chemistry and Harris is going to be a total prick about it.”

Scott starts to pull away but Stiles whines and pins him back in place. “Let me taste you first? Please?” he begs, eyes flashing brilliant crimson.

Scott laughs, and tilts his head to the side, inviting and sweet. The kiss isn’t hurried or frantic. It is the natural fitting of bodies that know one another well, meshing together like they were made for it. It’s the scrape of Scott’s stubble against Stiles’ chin, the press of Stiles’ nose against Scott’s cheek, the lush heat of one mouth passing into another as tongues snake out, teasing and tasting. It feels _right_ in a way that makes Stiles’ back settle, makes the blood boiling in his veins cool to a simmer, calms his rapid breathing and unties his lungs. It isn’t an epiphany. It is the slow knowing of a person inside and out over the course of a lifetime, and this is simply the last, small step.

It is _them_ , and it is good.

“Chemistry,” Scott whispers against his mouth, hands gripping Stiles’ waist and holding them tightly together.

“We’ve got it,” Stiles agrees, nipping at his mouth.

“No, Stiles. Chemistry. As in, class.”

Stiles groans and shakes his head. “Let Harris be a prick to somebody else today.”

Scott doesn’t pause for a second. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. We can do that.”

 

_[Received 11/14 3:03 AM] Wish you were here._

_[Sent 11/14 3:04 AM] My dad’s home. I think he’ll hear me if I start the Jeep. :(_

_[Received 11/14 3:05 AM] Don’t do that. He’ll ground you and I won’t see you tomorrow._

_[Received 11/14 3:05 AM] Today? Whatever._

_[Sent 11/14 3:06 AM] I really want to see you._

_[Received 11/14 3:15 AM] Open the window._

 

Practice heats aren’t the most predictable, but Scott’s always been regular. He can feel it building in his body, feel the loosening of his joints, the pliancy in his muscles. He can smell himself, and for the first time in ages, it feels good. Feels right, to smell like this, rolling around in sheets that still cling to the delicate scent of Stiles. Weeks of slow, thorough kissing, hands grasping under clothes, rolling around in the bed while Stiles pins him over and over, have made all Scott’s covers smell like _them_ , together.

Melissa rolls her eyes when she walks in to find him burying his face in his blankets, _again_.

He attracts a few stares in the hallways at school, but he doesn’t let it bother him. _Let them look_ , he thinks, knocking shoulders with Stiles as they make their way to their afternoon classes, trailing the sweet-warm scent of oncoming heat. _Let them smell me. I’ve got nothing to hide._

 

Stiles twines his long fingers with Scott’s warm, sweet, brown ones while they walk down the hall together. If there are other Omegas in existence currently, he is completely, blissfully unaware of them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Matt Daehler gropes Scott's ass in the locker room after a scrimmage. Scott wolfs out and fights back immediately. None of the Alphas on the Lacrosse team come to his aid other than Stiles, because of a gender essentialism issue.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah I'm the worst. Sorry about the delay! I hope this like, 2k of porn is well worth the wait. :)

The heat crashes in overnight.

“Stiles, Stiles, you have to - Mom you have to call him, you have to -”

“I know, Scott,” his mother soothes, phone already in her hand. “I know baby. He’s on his way, okay? Want me to get your toys? Maybe you’ll feel better if you take a cool shower. The smells in here are probably aggravating your heat.”

“No,” Scott shook his head weakly. “Want it just like this when he gets here. Need to smell good for him.”

“Scott,” she warns, grimacing. “Stiles is new at this. He may not be able to handle the -”

“He’ll be perfect,” Scott cuts her off, groaning into his pillow. “We’ll be fine.”

When Stiles stumbles into his bedroom the heat is high under his skin, ringing in his senses with a carol of _Mate_ and _Alpha_ and _Stiles._

“Oh, man - Scott -” Stiles gasps, nostrils flaring as he drinks up the heat-sweet air.

“Need you,” Scott whines from the bed. His hips arch up and back, presenting for his Alpha.

“I - I’m not -” Behind him, Scott can hear the soft huffs of breath Stiles takes through his mouth, trying not to be overwhelmed by the scent. Then, the sharp break of Stiles’ voice as he grits out, “Scotty?”

The sound is like ice over his burning skin, clearing his mind with brutal efficiency. For a long moment he stills, thinking that Stiles must have seen the knot, must be put off by his smell. But then Stiles is babbling in that soothing way that makes his stomach settle and fill with butterflies all at the same time.

“You smell so good, baby, I don’t know where to start. What do you - do you want me to pet you? Want my hands? Tell me what you want and I’ll do it, promise. I just don’t know -”

It makes every muscle in his body scream to do so, but Scott throws himself out of the bed and stumbles to the door that Stiles is plastered against. Stiles’ arms immediately surround him, the soft cotton of his worn t-shirt rasping rough against Scott’s skin. He wants to memorize the way Stiles’ lashes look on his cheeks, the little divot above his top lip, the pert upturn of his nose.

“You’re shaking,” Stiles tells him, rubbing soothing hands up and down his arms. His knees feel weak and watery, skin slick with sweat and brain humming with fever. Stiles’ body pressed against his is amazing, feels like nothing has in so long, but he shakes the smell out of his nose, and tries to clear his head for this one moment.

“Do you want to spend my heat with me, Stiles?” he asks, voice sluggish and over-warm as he stumbles over the words.

“Of course. I’m here for - whatever you need, I’ll do my best -”

“I want you to fuck me. Can you do that?”

Stiles’ jaw falls slack and his eyes glaze over. “You’re sure you want to… with _me_?”

Scott lets himself imagine it, imagine Stiles pushing him to the bed, pushing his knees up to his shoulders, pressing his cock deep inside the clutch of Scott’s cunt. A wave of heat rolls through him so strong he almost topples over. He grips, weak, at Stiles’ shoulders as the sharp-hot scent of his arousal bursts in the room.

“That answer your question?”

“Want to hear you say it,” Stiles grins, whispering against his skin.

“I want you, Stiles. Just you,” Scott obliges. He smiles as Stiles nuzzles forward, rubbing their cheeks together with affectionate presses. “Want you to mate me through my heat and fill me up. Breed me like your good Omega. Want it so bad -”

Within seconds Stiles’ lips are against his, pressing messy and wet into his mouth, lapping at his chapped skin. Strong, large hands grip his thighs, pull his legs up to twine around Stiles’ hips, slotting them together in a perfect press. Stiles’ clothes, soft sweats and a worn cotton t-shirt, shouldn’t itch like they do against Scott’s skin. He grunts at them, trying to push them up and down and _off_ , before Stiles catches his hands.

“I wore stuff I wouldn’t mind getting torn up,” he says, flushing hot as he glances toward Scott’s fingers. “In case you… you know. Lost control.”

“Like that idea, huh?” Scott grins and drags a single claw down the front of Stiles’ tee, parting it like water. It slips easily from his shoulders, leaving Stiles with goosebumps in the chilled air of Scott’s room.

“Oh God, you have to let me - I mean, you don’t _have to_ obviously but I want to - Scott, I just need -” Stiles struggles through the words, panting as he takes little, halting steps toward the bed.

“Calm down,” Scott laughs, rubbing his face along Stiles’ neck, scenting him thoroughly. “You can have whatever you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“I want to taste you.” Stiles’ voice goes gravel-deep and it hits Scott somewhere in his gut, the urge to flip over and present so strong he can taste it. He tries, legs tangling with Stiles’ body, getting hung up in Stiles’ long arms, until the Alpha smooths gentle hands down his chest.

“On your back? Please?” Stiles’ breath flutters before he adds, “I want to see all of you, while I eat you out.”

The words make Scott’s head spin. It doesn’t make sense, really. Stiles shouldn’t want to see him like this, see the knot plump and full at the base of his cock. But there’s no lie in his heart when he says it, when he rakes hot eyes down Scott’s body and licks hot lines up his throat.

“You’re so hot, baby. Just want to eat you up. Watch you the whole time.” Hearing him say that he wants to _see_ makes the heat in Scott’s veins ramp up. He moans around Stiles’ name like a prayer.

“That’s it, Scott,” he hushes, easing Scott’s legs up and apart. “Open up for me baby. You’re my good Omega, aren’t you?”

The first touch of Stiles’ tongue is a revelation. It is a hot, wet struggle as slick gushes out of his cunt, flooding Stiles’ mouth and nose. He covers his Alpha with his scent and revels in it, marking Stiles as _his_. The Alpha sneezes and snorts, trying to clear his airways before Scott grabs his head and pushes him back down, back to where he needs Stiles’ mouth.

“Oh fuck, that’s hot.” Stiles’ voice is muffled as he presses biting kisses into the flesh of Scott’s inner thighs, licks up the crease of his groin. Scott looks down, past the sweat-sheened lines of his own body toward where Stiles is propped up between his legs, face quirked in a question. “Sorry, was that out loud?”

“Uh, yeah,” Scott laughs, dazed. “What’s hot?”

“When you… you know,” Stiles blushes bright red, brighter than Scott with the flush of heat, and somehow it’s still attractive, still makes him burn with need. “Take what you want.”

Blood roars in Scott’s ears. Before he registers that they’ve moved, he’s flipped them both over, straddling Stiles’ waist. “Sorry, sorry, I know you wanted to -”

“No, yeah, take what you need,” Stiles nods. “Take it. There’s time for everything, right?”

Scott kisses him, hungry and soothing in turns, until he’s forced to pull back and catch his breath. “Yeah, ‘course. I just, I need this.” He rolls his hips, the cleft of his ass rubbing against his Alpha’s clothed erection. He can feel the swell of the knot even through Stiles’ sweats and it makes him want that much harder. “Please, need it Stiles, need -”

 

 

“Need my knot, baby?” Stiles grins, warmth flooding through his limbs. Scott’s hips grind into his, dragging them closer even through the barrier of fabric still clinging to his waist. “Gotta get these pants off then.”

Scott’s desperate little noises roll right through him, as strong as the heat-scent, filling his brain with hungry Alpha need. He wants to rip and tear, push and sink, but as he tries to flip them Scott growls and holds his hands down, plants him soundly into the bed.

“Like this,” Scott shudders, grinding hard and rough into him. His claws prick at Stiles’ wrists, just hard enough to drag him back into his head. It seems like that should be a problem, make his Alpha hackles rise, but really he just wants more of it. Wants Scott to put him on his back and ride his face, take from his knot at will until neither of them can stand it.

He makes quick work of his sweats, pushing them down until they wrap snugly around his knees, limiting his movement almost as much as Scott does. The intimate press of Scott’s slick skin against his own leaves him gasping.

“Are you ready?” Scott ruts against him, wild eyed. “Ready to mate me up, Alpha?” He teases, circling his hips until the head of Stiles’ cock just kisses at his hole, lightning-bolt touches that leave them both shaking with need.

A quick thrust of his hips is all it takes to push past the tease, into the blaze of Scott’s body.

Scott sits heavily on his lap. His thighs tense and arms quake as he grinds down on Stiles’ cock. The soft oh of his mouth is as lovely as Stiles imagined, parting on every upward drag, filling the air between them with his huffed out breath.

“Beautiful, Scotty,” Stiles grits out, jaw clenched. Being inside Scott is like nothing he’s ever felt before. The heat radiates between them, warming him from the inside, and the slick slide of his cock inside Scott’s cunt swamps him with pleasure on every thrust. Scott above him, pressing his hands to the mattress and riding him with sharp, short jerks of his hips, is so much more than he let himself imagine. He twines their fingers together, clinging to Scott’s hands as he coos encouragement. “Go on, take it, fuck yourself on me, baby. So gorgeous, just like that.”

The darkness in Scott’s eyes grows, taking on a red tinge, and Stiles can feel his own echoing the loss of control. With every thrust he pumps his hips up as much as he can, pushing back against the restrictive hold Scott has on him. His spine aches with it, thighs burn, but he keeps moving, rolling his body in perfect counterpoint to the one above him.

“Give it to me,” Scott growls, pressing harder on his hands. “Knot me, Alpha.”

As if his body is perfectly attuned to Scott’s desire, the knot surges up so quickly that Stiles gets dizzy with it, head dropping heavily to the pillow. The hot clutch of Scott around him grows tighter until he’s sure one of them will break, will burst open in a flood of heat pheromones. His breath stills in his lungs, sound caught in his throat as Scott clenches down, massaging the knot with his cunt. The rush of his orgasm hits like a train, barrelling through his body with such force that he can’t control the jacknife of his hips, the deep groan that rattles from his gut.

“Oh god, oh god, I can’t, wait, please -” his eyes go wide and wild as the knot settles and he spills into Scott’s body. Scott stills instantly, settled solidly in his lap, and clawed hands clutch gently at his face.

“It’s okay,” he soothes. Stiles’ hips move of their own accord, rocking them together in rolling waves. Scott grunts and grinds down for a moment before remembering himself and stilling again. “Sorry, it’s just - you feel amazing.”

“I feel - _I_ feel amazing? Scotty, you’re -”

“We’re both,” Scott interrupts, grinning sunshine-bright. “Told you we’d be perfect.” Even trying to stay still, Scott’s body milks his cock, pulling the pleasure out of him until he’s wrung out and lax. The waves of orgasm become longer, further apart, and the haze in his head begins to clear enough for him to notice Scott’s erection, still red and wet and painfully hard.

“Let me…” Stiles starts, hand rubbing tenderly up Scott’s thigh. Even with wolf strength, he has to be tired, sore, aching from the heat and exertion. Aching from not having come. “Let me just -”

“It’s alright,” Scott shakes his head, hand fitting automatically over his cock as if to shield it from view. “I can usually come from just this. It might not happen until the next knot but that’s fine, I can -”

“No,” Stiles bats his hands out of the way. “I’m not letting you do that. You’re not hiding from me.”

“I’m not -” Scott starts, and then slumps forward, giving up before he’s even begun. “Okay. I won’t. But you really don’t have to do that, I can _almost always_ -”

“Doesn’t matter,” Stiles grins, all teeth, as his fingers trail over the tight skin of the shaft. Confidence surges through him as he watches Scott quiver and bite his lip. “I want to do this, and unless you’re really uncomfortable with it, I’m going to.”

His hand wraps easily around Scott’s length, fitting to it as naturally as his knot fits nestled inside his omega’s cunt. He drags his palm along the shaft, rubbing his thumb one good time over the head. “Do you want me to stop?”

Scott’s head falls forward, resting on Stiles’ chest, and he can’t seem to stop the low growling moan rolling out of his throat. “Fuck no, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He uses both his hands, stroking Scott’s shaft with his right while the left cups the knot, tugging on it the same way he’d tug on his own. The angle’s different, but the muscle memory comes to his fingers, strengthening the squeeze of them as Scott writhes in his lap. Soft curses fall from his best friend’s mouth, but without wolf hearing all he can make out are garbled snatches of “ _Stiles_ ” and “ _Fuck_ ” and “ _Close_.”

“Please don’t stop,” Scott keens, grinding hard against the knot in his ass while Stiles squeezes and strokes. “Please, I’m almost - Can you just -? Oh, shit, Stiles-!”

“Come for me,” Stiles demands, wrist twisting and pumping. “Cover me in it. Want you to knot my hands. Want both of them? Need to get your scent all over me.” Scott nods, broken, and Stiles wraps both hands tight around the plump swell of his knot. It surges up, harder and fuller than before, and Scott’s loud groan makes his own cock spit in sympathy. “That’s it baby, come for me. Come for me, Scott.”

The splash of hot come against his skin is all he knows before Scott has dragged himself up, biting and moaning into Stiles’ mouth. He pets the Omega down, stroking a single hand through Scott’s hair while the other continues to work the knot.

“So good,” Scott grunts after another solid kiss. His mouth is wet, eyes dazed, but he’s smiling the same as always, and he smells so happy. It makes Stiles smile too.

They shuffle around, Scott draped over Stiles’ chest, pressing them together with a sticky mess between them. Stiles barely notices, content just to be there in the dark with Scott.

“So good,” Scott repeats, drowsy.

Stiles laughs. “The best.” Because it is, always has been, always will be.

 

_[Received 1/12 9:12 AM] Do you still have my chem book?_

_[Sent 1/12 9:15 AM] Holding it hostage ‘til you give my flannel back._

_[Received 1/12 9:16 AM] What’s the point of having an Alpha if he won’t let you wear his shirt that looks way better on you anyway?_

_[Sent 1/12 9:17 AM] … Okay, you have a point._

_[Received 1/12 9:18 AM] I WAS KIDDING!_

_[Sent 1/12 9:19 AM] I know. :) Chem book’s in my locker. I’ll get it to you before class._

_[Received 1/12 9:21 AM] Love you._

_[Sent 1/12 9:22 AM] Obviously._

_[Sent 1/12 9:23 AM] Love you too._

_[Received 1/12 9:36 AM] Totally keeping that shirt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it folks! Thanks so much for reading and for all the comments and love along the way. As always, feel free to come say hi on Tumblr and let me know what you'd like to see from me in the future.
> 
> Also, Taylor Swift's "1989" is a Teen Wolf soundtrack and if you want to fight me about that, you're wrong. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr.](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com)  
> 


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